The Meeting
by Stepmother
Summary: My version of the first meeting between Roger and Mimi. An angsty little oneshot.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**A short, angsty fic, my idea of a possible was Roger and Mimi met. I may use this story to set up another story. Enjoy!

She first noticed him on a crisp spring night in May.

Mimi Marquez was leading home Michael McKinnon, an Irish man who had offered her $5,000 to spend the night with him. Though Michael was incredibly drunk and had a family, Mimi put it out of her conscious. The rent wasn't going to pay itself.

As she opened the door to her building, Mimi felt a hand on her ass. Forcing a seductive smile, she looked over her shoulder at Michael, who was grinning stupidly at her. She turned away, rolling her eyes. "My loft's upstairs," she murmured as they stepped into the building.

Michael chuckled thickly, looking around the dark hallway. "I'm not sure I'm going to be able to make it that far. Wanna just fuck here?"

Fingering the five grand in her pocket, Mimi took a deep breath. "I insist. I have a bed, condoms, oil, handcuffs. Anything you need."

He perked up. "Handcuffs? You got handcuffs?"

Mimi seriously regretted mentioning handcuffs. "Yeah. So let's just head upstairs."

Nodding numbly, he started his rocky climb, Mimi following behind him. As they reached the flight below Mimi's, Mimi heard hushed voices.

"Hurry, April. I'm dying here," a man's voice groaned huskily.

Mimi heard a delicate sigh of frustration and pleasure. "How do you expect me to inject the damn thing with your hand up my dress?" a woman breathed sensually.

"Just do it," he said.

Mimi walked up a set of stairs to see a couple on a trashcan. The girl, a frail woman with red hair and chunky highlights, was sitting on the man's lap, a needle pressed into her vein. The man had short, blond hair and green-blue eyes, one hand covering the hand of the girl's, slowly pushing the heroin into her bloodstream, while the other was under her skirt, making her moan and lean her head back against his shoulder, her eyes closed in obvious ecstasy.

Mimi watched in fascination as "April" pulled needle out of her arm and turned around on the man's lap, capturing his moth with hers.

The man slowly stood, lifting April gently up and pressing her against the wall in a powerful kiss. Mimi saw his arm muscles flex as he held April tightly against himself.

As the man started trailing kisses over April's neck, the girl turned to face Mimi, her expression changing from passionate to surprised.

"Roger!" she chirped. "Stop!"

"Why?" he panted, stepping away quickly.

April pointed at Mimi, who felt like a deer caught in headlights as the man christened "Roger" turned his electric gaze on her.

"Marquez! What the fuck are you doing?" Michael snarled, grabbing Mimi's arm and dragging her upstairs into her loft.

Mimi heard as she was rushed upstairs, "Now . . . where were we?" come from Roger.

When Michael roughly chained her to the bed, all Mimi could think about was how Roger had tenderly kissed April, protecting her in his strong arms. When Michael ripped off her clothes and started licking her, all Mimi could think about was how Roger had touched April in a way meant to please her, instead of himself. And when Michael impaled her ferociously, pumping his body into hers, when she cried out in pain, when Michael smashed his mouth onto hers and said, "Shut up, whore. This is all you'll ever be good for," all Mimi could think about was how when April had told Roger to stop, he had moved away.

Mimi lay on the bed as Michael recovered from his orgasm, picked up his clothes and threw a one hundred dollar bill on her body. "For the handcuffs," he explained, before leaving the loft.

Flipping the switch that opened the handcuffs, Mimi walked naked into the shower, washing Michael's saliva and semen from her body with cheap soap.

Two months later, as Mimi walked up the stairs to her loft after grocery shopping, she heard shouting coming from the loft below hers; Roger and April's.

"No! Oh my God, please no! April! Mark! APRIL!" Roger was screaming hysterically.

Mimi walked to the entrance to the loft, listening. The door was open.

"What's wrong?" another man's voice asked. There was a moment of silence. "Oh my fuckin' God," the man whispered.

"Mimi held her breath impatiently, wondering what happened.

"She's dead, Mark!" Roger screamed. "Dead! She fucking killed herself!" He stopped telling, starting to sob.

"But . . . why?" Mark said, sounding as if he was crying as well. "Oh my God.

"What?" Roger cried.

"Read this," Mark said.

Roger was silent. "What the fuck is this supposed to mean!" he yelled. "This is why she slit her wrists! Goddamn fuckin' son of a bitch . . ." He continued shouting obscenities. "I mean . . . I just . . . I've got to get out of here," he said desperately, storming out of the loft, onto the street.

Mimi stood quietly, her groceries in her hand. April had killed herself? Why? Poor, poor Roger.

The other man, Mark, started dialing the phone. "Maureen?" he said, starting to cry again. "It's Mark. No, I'm fine. It's April . . . She's dead. Of course this isn't a fucking joke! She slit her wrists! Roger just left. He found her in the bathtub. Just come here, honey, I'm so, so scared," he said thickly.

Mimi started up the stairs as quietly as she could, her groceries seemingly weightless. She didn't want to intrude on the group's grieving.

A/N: I may do a sequel kind of. If I did, it would be Mimi's thoughts during "Light My Candle" if this had really happened. Kind of confusing, but if I do it you'll see what I'm talking about. Keep R&Ring! SM


	2. Chapter 2

A weird little fic about Mimi's thoughts during Light My Candle. This is sort of a sequel to The Meeting. It's on what her thoughts would be if she sang this song after that story. Weird, yes. Enjoy!

Mimi Marquez was walking back up to her apartment after a little visit to Ramon, the friendly neighborhood smack dealer. Her candle in one hand and the little packet of heroin tucked safely in her pants pocket, she was one flight below her loft when the door leading to the roof opened. Roger Davis, the man living below her, walked out, long blond hair bouncing lazily as he stepped down the stairs. Mimi hid as he stormed into his flight.

_He's probably lonely,_ Mimi thought, remembering what she had overheard seven months earlier. Grinning, she blew out her candle and headed to his apartment, knocking three times on his door.

He pushed it open, saying, "What'd you forget?" before realizing that Mimi was standing there.

She looked up at him, brandishing the candle coyly. "Gotta light?" she asked.

He looked stunned, trying to place who she was. "I know you, you're . . ." His gaze flew down her arms, which trembled slightly from the recent exposure to the outside. "You're shivering," he noticed, pulling his leather jacket over her shoulders.

She stepped inside. "It's nothing, they turned off my heat, and I'm just a little weak on my feet. Would you light my candle?" Mimi then noticed that his blue gaze was following her every move. "What are you staring at?" she questioned.

Roger shook his head, smiling. "Nothing, your hair in the moonlight." He tucked a lock behind Mimi's ear. "You look familiar," he said, pulling out matches and lighting the candle.

_Obviously. I walked in on you and this April practically doing it a few months ago._

Not wanting to get into that, Mimi pretended to feel faint. And of course, Roger, the gentleman he was, tried to catch her. "Can you make it?" he asked, concerned.

Smirking, Mimi stepped out of his arms. "Just haven't eaten much today," she sang, twirling in circles, "At least the room stopped spinning anyway." She noticed again he was staring at her. "What?"

Roger shrugged. "Nothing. Your smile reminded me of-"

_April. Of course._

"I always remind people of- who is she?" Mimi interrupted, as if she hadn't known for almost a year.

Roger seemed to go into a slight daze. "She died." _I know. I heard you cry._ "Her name was April." _You moaned her name that night._

Mimi blew the candle out quickly. "It's out again," she apologized. When Roger looked forlorn, she added, "Sorry about your friend. Would you light my candle?"

Lighting another match, Roger looked at Mimi shyly. "Well . . ." he drawled.

"Yeah . . ," Mimi encouraged. Suddenly, her finger burned. "Ow!" she cried, sucking on her finger.

"Oh, the wax," Roger said, taking her hand in his. Little zings flew up Mimi's arm. "It's-"

"Dripping," Mimi said, pulling Roger's hand towards her chest and slowly trailing it downwards. "I like it between my-"

"Fingers, I figured!" Roger stammered, jumping away. "Oh well. Goodnight."

Mimi smiled and handed Roger back his jacket. She strutted out the door, reaching for her smack, before finding her pocket empty. Looking on the ground, Mimi knocked on the door.

"It blew out again?" Roger mused.

"No, I think that I dropped my stash," Mimi said angrily, looking around.

"I know I've seen you out and about, when I used to go out." He pointed to her candle. "Your candle's out," he said.

Mimi groaned, paying no attention. "I'm illin'. I had it when I walked in the door. It was pure! Is it on the floor?"

"The floor?" Roger said, watching Mimi's every move.

She crouched over to search, before a little bell in her head went off. Mimi glanced back at Roger, whose gaze was planted firmly on her butt.

"They say that I have the best ass below 14th Street. Is it true?" she asked, pretending to be irritated.

Roger, realizing that Mimi had caught him staring, looked up. "What?" he said.

"You're staring again," Mimi laughed, sitting up.

"Oh no," Roger said, embarrassed. "I mean, you do . . . have a nice . . . I mean-you look familiar," he stuttered, his ears turning adorably red. He got down on the floor to search with her.

"Like your dead girlfriend?" Mimi asked cautiously, considering telling him that she had seen them.

He shook his head. "Only when you smile, but I'm sure I've seen you somewhere else."

_He can't remember that night. He just can't._

Mimi thought quickly. "Do you go to the Cat Scratch Club? That's where I work- I dance. Help me look!" she added, crawling around on the floor.

Roger's eyes lit up in remembrance. He sat up. "Yes! They used to tie you up!"

Mimi rolled her eyes. _Great. He knows me from my birdcage days._ "It's a living," she sighed, continuing to look.

His face glowed with mischievousness. "I didn't recognize you without the handcuffs," he teased.

Mimi cut him off, sitting up. "We should light the candle," she interrupted, holding it out to him. "Oh, won't you light the candle?"

Roger obediently lit the candle. "Why don't you forget that stuff?" he asked about the heroin. "You look like you're sixteen."

Mimi rolled her eyes again and stood, a motion he followed. "I'm nineteen," she said. _And it's not like you were much older seven months ago with April_. "But I'm old for my age," she laughed, bumping her hip against Roger's and setting off to look for the smack. "I'm just born to be bad."

"I once was born to be bad," Roger echoed disapprovingly. "I used to shiver like that," he said, referring to her shoulders.

Mimi felt indignant. Her shoulders weren't shivering from the smack – yet. She had just been outside. "I have no heat, I told you," she informed.

"I used to sweat," he interrupted quickly.

_Shit. I _am_ sweating. Fucking withdrawal._

"I got a cold," she said lamely.

"Uh huh," Roger said, clearly not believing her. "I used to be a junkie."

_Why deny it anymore?_

"Now and then I like to feel good," she drawled.

Roger looked unconvinced. He looked on the floor. "Oh here!" he said, picking up something. He then looked guiltily at Mimi.

"What's that?" she asked, strolling towards him.

He looked uncomfortable, sliding the packet into his back pocket. "Candy bar wrapper," he pathetically invented.

Seeing that Roger wasn't going to give up the heroin on his own free will, Mimi resorted to the talents that got her fed every night. She walked up to him slowly, gazing up at him through her lashes. "We could light the candle," she purred, walking around him to try to reach his pocket. He quickly sat down on the couch. "Oh, what'd you do with my candle?" She crawled over him and sat on the arm of the couch.

Roger looked up at her nervously. "That was my last match," he said pointlessly.

"Our eyes'll adjust," Mimi dismissed. "Thank God for the moon."

"Maybe it's not the moon at all," Roger said quickly, seeming to want to keep the conversation going. "I hear Spike Lee's shooting down the street," he said, pointing out the window.

"Bah humbug," Mimi murmured, taking his and with hers and examining it slowly. "Bah humbug."

Roger stared straight ahead, trying to ignore the fact that Mimi was holding his hand. "Cold hands," he swallowed, trying to act casual.

"Yours too," she smiled, running her fingers gently over them "Big. Like my father's." Mimi suddenly felt goose bumps fly across her skin and she shivered. Withdrawal was beginning to feel uncomfortable. _Better get it now_. "Do you want to dance?" she asked suddenly, pulling Roger to a standing position and twirled herself with his hand.

"With you?" Roger asked incredulously.

"No," Mimi said sarcastically, spinning a little more. "With my father."

Roger smiled. "I'm Roger," he said, sounding amusedly defeated.

Mimi slowly circled him. "They call me," she hummed as she got to his back, where she artfully removed the little packet, a trick she had learned from before her Catscratch Club days. "They call me Mimi," she smiled, standing in front of him. Mimi shook the packet in front of his face and grinned coyly, before turning and walking out the door, sliding it closed behind her.

A/N: Sorry it took so long! I had other fan fictions to update on and everything's been really confusing lately.


End file.
